High Heeled Revenge Pt. 03 - Sensations

Scarlet traced finger along Cam's frozen jawline, her deceptively gentle. The emerald potion done its work well--every muscle locked in perfect stillness, every breath a shallow, controlled whisper. Only Camila's eyes remained alive, wide and burning with unspoken terror.

"Poor little thief," Scarlet murmured, thumb brushing the seam of Camila's parted lips. "All that cleverness, and yet here you are." She leaned closer, her breath warm against Camila's ear. "Tell me, do you regret it yet?"

No answer came. None could.

With a flick of her wrist, the air shimmered crimson, and the world dissolved into nothingness.

They reappeared in Scarlet's private chambers--a cavern of dark velvet and witch-light. No audience here. No witnesses. Just the two of them, and the heavy scent of roses left to rot.

Scarlet guided Camila's rigid body toward the bed, arranging her with slow, deliberate precision. Limbs straightened. Head tilted just so against the pillows. A doll posed for display.

"There," Scarlet whispered, stepping back to admire her work. "Now we begin."

The potion's grip deepened, dragging Camila toward unconsciousness despite her silent screaming. Her vision blurred at the edges, darkness lapping at her like rising tide.

Scarlet perched on the bed's edge, watching as Camila's eyelids fluttered--a futile battle against the inevitable. "Sleep," she commanded, fingers carding through Camila's hair. "Tomorrow, you'll learn the cost of what you took from me."

The last thing Camila saw before the dark claimed her was Scarlet's smile--sharp as a blade, and just as cruel.

Scarlet lingered on the edge of the bed long after Camila's breathing had steadied into sleep, her face an unreadable mask in the flickering candlelight. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of silk as she finally rose and crossed to her worktable.

Her hands moved with practiced precision--grinding herbs, measuring drops of shimmering liquids, preparing the instruments of tomorrow's lessons. The moon cast fractured patterns through the stained glass, painting the floor in jagged shards of silver and blue. Somewhere beyond the tower walls, a nightingale sang, oblivious to the suffering that dawn would bring.

Camila awoke with a gasp, her body jerking against the restraints that now held her captive. The first thing she noticed the unfamiliar ceiling her--dark wood beams crisscrossing in an intricate pattern, lit by the eerie glow of magically suspended witch-lights. Then the sensations hit her all at once.

Between her legs, something thick and unyielding pulsed inside her, stretching her uncomfortably. Another intrusion pressed deeper into her backside, both objects secured in place by cold, unforgiving belts that locked around her hips and thighs. The restraints' presence made her skin crawl, smothering any attempt to summon even the faintest flicker of magic. She whimpered, shifting slightly, only to feel the objects shift with her, sending a jolt of humiliating awareness through her body.

Her breath came in short, panicked bursts as she took in the rest of her predicament. The dress--gods, the dress--was a nightmare of shimmering black fabric, so tight it might as well have been a second skin. It clung to every curve, the neckline plunging obscenely low while the hem barely covered her thighs. The material was smooth, slick, and utterly unforgiving, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Scarlet's fingers traced idle patterns along Camila's inner thigh, her touch light as spider silk. "Awake at last," she purred, her breath warm against Camila's ear. "Did you miss me?"

Camila's lips parted--whether to beg or snarl, even she didn't know--but Scarlet pressed a finger against them, silencing her before a sound could escape. "Ah-ah. No pretty lies, no desperate bargaining. Not yet." She straightened, her smirk sharp as a blade.

Then there were the heels.

Higher than before, more punishing, laced up past her knees in a cruel mockery of elegance. The leather straps locked in place with tiny, intricate mechanisms that clicked faintly whenever she tried to move. Every slight shift sent pain radiating up her calves, forcing her to arch her back just to maintain balance--her body bowed into submission, unable to escape even the smallest torment.

Her arms were bound tightly behind her, wrists secured to a heavy ring at the small of her back. The position pulled her shoulders taut, making her chest jut forward in helpless display. Another restraint circled her throat--not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind her of its presence with every swallow, every shaky breath.

Scarlet stepped closer, the click of her own heels echoing like a slow-counted sentence. "Look at you," she murmured, tilting Camila's chin up with one finger. "So much more pleasing when you're still." Her thumb brushed the pulse fluttering beneath the collar. "Though I do enjoy watching you struggle."

The restraints held. The heels kept her trapped in their agonizing slant. And the slow, aching stretch of what filled her left no doubt--this was only the beginning.

Camila shuddered, her face burning with shame as Scarlet leaned in, her breath hot against her ear.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "This is only the beginning."

Then, with a snap of her fingers, the objects inside Camila twitched, wringing a choked gasp from her lips as Scarlet's laughter curled through the air like smoke.

Scarlet raised a single, elegant hand. Magic coiled around Camila's body, lifting her from the bed like a marionette--limbs shifting, posture bending to an unseen will. The heels forced her into an unnatural arch, her weight teetering on the cruel points of her toes. Every trembling adjustment sent fresh shocks through the restraints inside her, pulling another whimper from her throat.

"Walk," Scarlet commanded, amusement darkening her tone.

Camila's body obeyed before her mind could protest. Each step was unsteady, stiff, the tight dress strangling her ribs as the belts bit deeper into her hips and thighs. The objects within her shifted with every movement, dragging waves of unwanted pleasure through her core. Teeth clenched, she followed, humiliation a living thing beneath her skin as Scarlet led her toward the waiting door.

It swung open to reveal a chamber drowned in wavering candlelight. The air was thick--incense and something sharper, something like cold iron. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with vials, gleaming restraints, and devices that made Camila's stomach twist. At the room's heart stood a padded bench, straps dangling like serpents ready to strike. A table nearby held an array of instruments, each more ominous than the last.